21 Yanks Tour Europe
21 YANKS TOUR EUROPE
EDISON DYE
IN 1963 I TOURED Europe, saw the Isle of Man TT and the Le Mans 24-hour sports car race. I determined to organize a tour for motorcyclists to repeat the journey and, in June of 1964, the fruits of my labors saw 23 people board a Pan-American jet for a trip to London. Our group was a true cross-section. Motorcycle people included Ed Kretz, Norm Lee, and myself, all motorcycle dealers, motorcycle journalist Wilson Springer, a sprinkling of individuals, and one lady. Miss Leslie Bunce.
Our goal was England and the BSA factory. After flying into the never-setting sun over the North Pole, we landed in London. A bus awaited us, its driver taking off like Stirling Moss through the traffic on the “wrong” side of the road. Arriving at the BSA factory we were greeted by a Mr. Peach, the Export Manager, and 20 brand new 650cc blue Royal Stars. After a reception from Mr. Rawson, Sales Director for BSA, lunch, tour of the plant, and other amenities, we greeted our BSAs as though we had never seen a motorcycle before.
Next day we followed a pair of sidecar rigs, furnished by the Royal Automobile Club, out of town and onto the M-6 (freeway) towards Blackpool. Though we were equipped for it, most of us were not used to riding in the rain, but we soon got our wings. Through lovely rolling hills we traveled to Blackpool, a resort town very popular with the British.
Onward we went through country that is a motorcyclist’s paradise of curving roads and small villages to Liverpool and the docks, where we loaded our machines onto the steamer “Manx Maid” for the trip to the fabled Isle of Man. Hundreds of motorcycles were waiting in line, some of the most impressive antiques, customs and exotic bikes we had ever seen. We all wore bright blue jackets with “European USA Rally” on the back and BSA emblems on the sleeves so we made friends at once. People were eager to talk to us, tell us about the Island, etc.
We landed on the Isle of Man late that evening and rode as a group to the hotel, our home for the next five days. Early the next day we rode around the course and selected a spot to watch that day’s races, the sidecar event. Certainly the greatest motorcycle spectacle anywhere, the Isle of Man draws enthusiasts from every corner of the world to pay homage to their sport.
We watched the sidecar event, after which came the 250cc event. Honda was again victorious; their fantastic fours never missed a beat, although Benelli and Suzuki challenged, without success. The next day there were no races so we took a bus trip around the Island and saw such famous spots as Ramsey, Peel, the textile mills and the Laxey wheel.
Delightful little villages dot the Island, stone walls cross the fields, and everything is green . . . and so clean. Even without the motorcycle races the island is one of the nicest places one can pick to visit. Next day we took in the 125cc and 350cc races, then Friday evening after the 500cc race we boarded the ferry for the trip back to Liverpool.
From Liverpool we went to Chester, a fine example of medieval English architecture, all half timbered. Bill Cochran ran out of gas in the middle of the tunnel under the harbor, and Norm Lee pushed him out with his bike. We stayed at the Blossoms hotel, built in 1470! (The floors squeaked something fierce.)
Next morning we browsed the town, saw the famous cathedral, and rode off on the M-l to London. Arriving early in the London outskirts, we made our curvy way to our hotel in the center of the city. Following a good steak dinner, we set out to see Piccadilly circus and some of the other night sights. Next day we took a bus tour to Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace, Westminster, Big Ben, the Tower of London, London Bridge and many other famous landmarks.
Early Monday we went to Lydd Airport in the south. There the contents of our luggage-carrying van, and the twenty motorcycles, were loaded aboard a giant British Air Ferry plane for the 500-mile trip to the center of Europe. Sitting in the rear, we had the entire airplane to ourselves except for one English couple who seemed quite surprised to see so many Americans. Soon all of the Scotch was gone. We kept the stewardess pretty busy.
Unloading at Strasbourg, France, we crossed the Rhine into Germany, reached an autobahn (freeway), turned left for Karlsruhe. About 9:00 PM, as we climbed the foothills of the Schwäbischen Alps, the large neon sign of the Eiss Hotel appeared. We were happy to see it, and after an excellent meal with Sauerbraten and German wine, we retired on down mattresses with down blankets for covers. The hotel is located on the Solitude racing course, famous site of many European Grands Prix. The manager was so excited by the large group of Americans that he was out snapping pictures like crazy the next morning.
After visiting the Solitude Castle, we then toured the Mercedes Benz automobile factory. Later we stopped at the village of Pappenheim where the mayor himself wel comed us and the villagers gave us a party. We arrived in Munich the next day after spending the night in Pappenheim. Since it was Sunday afternoon, we strolled about town window shopping. Everywhere there were sidewalk cafes, with people drinking beer and eating.
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After dinner at the Hofbrau (the beer was excellent), and a good night's sleep, we left the next morning for Garmish in the Bavarian Alps, riding over our first cobble stone streets. Passing green alpine mea dows, we climbed the beautiful mountains with sharp and barren peaks around us. We rode to the summit, and crossed into Austria where they seemed to be working on the roads, everywhere. We were all im pressed with how clean and unspoiled the countryside was as we toured down the steep mountains into Innsbruck, located in the heart of a lovely valley.
Innsbruck is one of the major ski capi tals of Europe. Beyond, the valley runs for miles to the passes of Saint Anton and Bregenz. By late afternoon it was raining; at St. Anton it had become a cloudburst so we stopped for food and to warm up a bit. Pushing on to Bregenz. the rain finally let up, but we had certainly appreciated our K-70 Dunlop tires during the wet going.
We crossed the border into Switzerland the next morning, passing hills of green, dotted with farm houses. Riding through St. Gallen, across a mountain range, and into another valley we reached Lucerne, which is located on the shores of a beau tiful lake. We ate lunch, shopped for watches (naturally), and saw the start of the famous Rhine river where it flows out of the lake. Late in the afternoon we went on to Basel, located on the border between Switzerland, France and Germany.
Our hotel was on the banks of the Rhine. We ate in a sidewalk cafe, watch ing the river traffic move up and down. All of us wore leather shorts we had pur chased in Austria, and what a sight we were! Most of the people of the town came to look at our motorcycles with the strange. high handlebars. (At least I think that's what they came to see.)
Our Volkswagen van went ahead to shop for meats, cheese, bread and red wine as we had decided to have a picnic along the autobahn at one of the rest parks. We had our choice of hundreds of kinds of cold cuts, most of which were unknown to us. Crossing the German border again, we moved along the autobahn to our pre-se lected stop. Soon all of the group showed up and we really had a feast.
On the way to Cologne, through the town of Heidelberg, we passed what ap peared to be the entire German army, on maneuvers. At Frankfurt we turned off for Mainz where we booked passage on the Rhine steamer that was to leave in the morning for the 12-hour trip down the river through almost unbelievable traffic. Next morning we boarded the steamer with our motorcycles. Very modern, the boat had three dining rooms and numerous re freshment bars.
As the boat moved down the Rhine we found a place on the sund~ck and were treated to some of the most spectacular scenery in all of Europe. Every two or three miles we passed ruins of castles and watchtowers with miles of hillsides covered with vineyards. It was Sunday, so thou sands of Germans rode the Rhine pleasure boats to various villages, stopping for pic nics on the banks.
Approaching the industrialized section of Germany, we left the boat at Koblenz and rode to Aachen to spend the night. We found a bowling alley (such as it was), and several of the fellows tried their hand at nine pins. Early in the morning we crossed into Belgium and to Brussels, a very large city. Finding that a "brazzier" was not an eating place but a bar, we dis covered a place to eat, over a modern bowling alley. Later that afternoon we headed out of the city on a freeway for Oostende and the sea.
Our journey was nearing its end. The only mechanical failures we had encount ered were 10 or 12 stuck carburetor slides when the weather got truly wet. Tom Her nandez of Palm Desert, Calif., didn't have any trouble. He claims he is big enough to cover the whole bike thus keeping the rain off.
After crossing the English Channel we arrived at Dover early in the morning, then rode to London and left our motor cycles for shipment to America. Near the central section of London we stopped to ask a policeman for directions to Owens Brothers, BSA dealers. The Bobby gave simple directions: "Go straight ahead un til you reach the next Bobby, then turn left." It just shows that Bobbies are more permanent than street names. .
The next day we boarded a Pan-Am jet for Los Angeles and home. We went, saw, and came home with a lifetime of memo ries. Plans are now going ahead for the 1965 Rally to Europe. Participants will have their choice of BSA, BMW or Tri umph motorcycles next time, and we will visit Copenhagen, Denmark, as well as Ber lin, Vienna, Venice and, of course, the Isle of Man, on another 21-day jaunt. Care to join us? G
